Never Look Back
by Moonlit Tears
Summary: The winds of change have set their course, and they are taking Legolas with them.


This is a reposting of my first ever story! I actually like this one the best, so please review and tell me what you think!!

--

  
For the many years of late, the autumns have crept into springs, and the springs into winters. The changing of the leaves mark the end of another year, but also mark the beginning of a new year, which will with no doubt bring new adventure.  
  
Or, at least, that's the way it's supposed to be.  
  
Since the passing of King Elessar of Gondor, my existence has been a lonely one. The King was my dearest friend, my brother though not in blood. The King's wife, the Lady Arwen, had been my good friend since we were wee little elf-lings in Elrond's house, or in the house of my father, Lord Thranduil.  
  
I am Legolas, the last remaining elf on Middle Earth, the last of my fair kin.  
  
I am also the last of the Fellowship of the Ring.  
  
Ages ago, it seems. A distant myth that is only spoke of now in sonnets and songs much like the ones old Samwise used to make while stirring us a pot of rabbit stew.  
  
Ah, the sweet memories, turned bitter by the ever pressing notion of time. What I wouldn't give to be back there again, surrounded by my friends, my brothers, my family.  
  
Nine in number, we were. Gandalf, or Mithrandir, the great Mage who was our guide. We thought he fell in the Mines of Moria, but no. He came back greater than ever, the undoing of Sarumon the White.  
  
And then there was Boromir, the Steward of Gondor. He was a noble man, but that's where his undoing lies. For the hearts of most men are easily corrupted, and Boromir found himself under the influence of the Ring of Power. He died because of it.  
  
I say most men, but I truly mean all men. All men except one. That one man was the King of Gondor and wife of the Lady Evenstar. Aragorn, son of Arathorn, the last King of Men. He was most noble in life, the mere Ranger who defied the odds. The man who let Frodo go, the man who let Frodo continue on his journey to destroy the Ring of Power. That man was my best friend.  
  
Then, there was Gimli the Dwarf. Now, most people, be them elf, dwarf, or man, would say that a friendship between an elf (myself) and a dwarf (Gimli) would be an unlikely one, in the least. But friends we were, and Gimli now prepares to set sail with me, to leave and accompany myself into the Undying Lands, the Haven of the Elves.  
  
And lastly, there were the four hobbits, who are the fondest memory in my heart. There was Merry and Pippin, taken captive by the enemy but rescued, eventually. They never changed. Their laughter still rang clear, and their smiles shone ever so bright, and their appetite, if anything, grew! Ah yes, you could always count on them to cheer you.  
  
And then there was Sam, the loyal servant of Frodo Baggins. He was a fine cook, if I ever knew one. Fiercely loyal and protective, he accompanied Frodo into the very fires of Mordor. Never would he leave his friend.  
  
The last member of our company was Frodo Baggins, a little hobbit with a big mission. He was the Ringbearer, and it was his task, and his task alone to destroy the cursed band. No matter how hard the Fellowship tried to ease his burden, it was never ours to bear. No, Frodo was entirely alone.  
  
But through the ordeal, the goodness of the tiny hobbit's heart reflected. He remained mostly untainted by the corrupting powers of Sauron, surprising even great seers such as Galadriel, Lady of Light, and Elrond Half-Elven, father of Arwen Evenstar. He sailed into the Undying Lands long ago, for the weight of the One Ring was forever weighing down his palm.  
  
And I was there too. I was the Elven Archer, the Prince, aloof and cold. I watched everything with my eyes, heard every secret with my ears. I saved many a life during that War, the fiercest I have seen in my long years upon this Earth.  
  
The loud chirping of birds brings myself back to the present. I am standing next to Gimli in Lorien, the now-empty City of the Elves. Once, Galadriel Lady of Light, lived here, and all prospered. The Elves were respected throughout Middle Earth, and our existence, while not without troubles, was a happy one indeed.  
  
But all good things must come to a close. And now I stand, alone but for Gimli by my side, staring out at the city that played refuge to myself and eight others those long years ago.  
  
Gimli reached a hand into a pocket on his person. He withdrew three golden hairs. "These, lad, are the hairs of the Lady Galadriel. I will forever keep them on my person. Perhaps, when we reach the Undying Lands, I can return them to her, for I have no use for them anymore. They were indeed lucky, and kept me safe throughout that war."  
  
I smiled down at the dwarf. "They were a gift, mellon. Do not dishonor the Lady by returning them to her. Perhaps they might still serve some purpose to you. They will forever be a reminder of times past."  
  
We turned around and mounted our horses. I still rode Arod, the noble steed who bore me during the Battle of Helms Deep, as well as many others. Gimli rode Bill, the small pony that Samwise Gamgee gave him as a gift, for returning alive from the War of the Ring. Gimli, I might add, has become quite the accomplished rider.  
  
We set off across the plains, and near the Gondor border. I see the wide river that I canoed down, alongside Aragorn and Boromir, those many years ago. I see the falls where Boromir's body was put to rest. If I strain my ears, I can hear the same whisperings of the trees that gave me company so long ago.  
  
The rolling green hills, and the clear blue sky make for easy traveling. The leaves fall with grace, floating on the light breeze. The wind slaps my back, and lifts my golden hair into the air.  
  
We stop quickly as we meet to travelers drawing near. It does not take long to deduce who they are. "Faramir! Eowyn!" I exclaim, seeing my old friends for the last time.  
  
The Steward of Gondor, brother of Boromir, has grown old. His hair is mostly gray now, but his eyes maintain the state of alert that they always held. "Legolas, Gimli. My friends, we have just set out looking for you."  
  
Eowyn brings her horse near mine, and reaches out to take my hand. "Dear Legolas, Arwen wishes to speak to you before you leave." The Shield Maiden of Rohan's blonde hair has been frosted attractively with gray for some years now. Her face is home to few wrinkles, but enough to show the margin of time on her fair features.  
  
I smile and bow my head respectively. "Thank Eowyn," I say softly, letting go of her soft hand. "I will never forget you."  
  
I make to go on, but Gimli clears his throat. I smile and allow him, my last companion to speak. "Lady Eowyn" says Gimli gruffly, "You have been a true beacon in our time of darkness." Eowyn smiles, and nods her head in thanks. "Faramir," Gimli continues, "You are a better man then I ever would have imagined. Your brother would be proud of you, my friend."  
  
Faramir's eyes mist over, but he remains strong. "Thank you, Gimli. You don't know how much that means to me."  
  
Gimli nodded, "Your welcome, laddie."  
  
We nod our heads to our friends, and bid them farewell for the last time. I turn Arod towards Gondor, and Gimli follows suit.  
  
Bidding good-bye to our friends, we turn away, but not before I see the tears in Eowyn's eyes. It reminds me that I will be leaving all my memories and friends behind here. But I will be with the rest of my kin when I reach the Undying Lands.  
  
As we ride across the rolling plains, I take in for perhaps the last time the pristine beauty of my home. Who knows what the Undying Lands will be like? Will they be all I dream of?  
  
As quickly as the worries cross my mind, I banish them. I should not doubt the wisdom of my elders, for they consider the lands across the water a safe haven, and I should too.  
  
I ride through the Gondor Gates one last time, Gimli at my side. The faint breeze carries a tint of the ocean that captivated my heart as much as it captivated the heart of every other elf on Middle Earth.  
  
"Legolas!" Came Arwen's call across the palace gardens.  
  
I quickly dismount and run to meet my old friend. "Arwen," I whisper, touching her cheek gently.  
  
Arwen was an elf long ago, but gave up the immortal life of our people to spend a mortal life with Aragorn. It pains my heart to see her once raven black hair gray, and to see the worry lines creasing her face. The pain of sickness and old age are evident in the shadows of her eyes, and I wish with a pang that no being would ever have to experience such decay.  
  
The Elven daughter of Lord Elrond looks me over. "Are you ready for your voyage, nin mellon?" she asks, her voice sounding sad.  
  
"Yes," I say, "We are ready."  
  
Arwen looks into my eyes, her own blue saucers filled with tears. "I can't believe you are really leaving."  
  
"Neither can I," I admit, "It doesn't seem possible. But it's true. I'm going to join our people."  
  
Arwen's expression turns grim. "They are not my people anymore, Legolas. I renounced them when I announced that Aragorn was my husband." Her voice holds traces of regret.  
  
I look at her, alarmed. "Are you saying you regret your decision, Undomiel?" I ask.  
  
She shakes her head quickly, "Oh no, my friend. The years I have spent in the company of Elessar were the happiest of my life. As I told him, I would rather spend one lifetime with him, then face all the ages of this Earth alone. It's just. . . I miss him."  
  
I take her lined hands in my smooth, ageless ones. "I know, Arwen. I miss Aragorn greatly, we all do."  
  
Arwen shook her head. "Do not feel pity for me. I shall go to join Aragorn shortly." It is a bitter reminder of her mortality.  
  
"Arwen," I say sadly.  
  
"No Legolas," she says, cutting me off, "The choice was mine. I am glad you are leaving Middle Earth. For once I am gone, you will have no one tying you here. I don't want to be the reason of your staying. I don't want to tie you down."  
  
It amazes me that she knows that she, my good friend, is why I stayed as long as I did. I promised her father that I would watch her until her passing. "Arwen, you never tied me down," I say, trying to calm her, "I could have left whenever I wanted to. But I wanted to say, to make sure you were alright."  
  
Arwen smiles, and nods, though I can tell she doesn't quite believe me. "Well, Legolas, I release you from your chains, and I bid you, sail to the Undying Lands, and be with your kin."  
  
I nod, "I will do that, Arwen. Namaarie," I say sadly, for this is the last good-bye I had to finish before setting off. It is almost time.  
  
Arwen catches my hand as I turn to leave, "Tell my father I will see him, in this life or the next."  
  
I smile, and hug her tightly, "Of course, Undomiel. Namaarie, nin mellon."  
  
"Namaarie, Legolas," she says, "Aa' i'sul nora lanne'lle." The Elvish tongue still flows smoothly off her tongue.  
  
"Namaarie," I say one last time, then turn and walk towards the ocean, where our boat lies docked. I do not look back. It would be too painful.  
  
--  
  
The winds are blowing strongly in our favor, and it seems like it is a good omen, as if the higher powers are telling us to continue our journey. I smile, to Gimli, and nod, and he kicks off from the shore. We are off.  
  
We both sit at the edge, watching our homeland fade away. Gimli shades his eyes against the sun, and says, "I can see the Lonely Mountain from here."  
  
"Well," I say, "I can see Mirkwood from here."  
  
The dwarf turns to me. "Legolas, there is no way you would be able to see your land from here, laddie. There's got to be mountains and other lands between us and it."  
  
"True," I answer, "But I can picture it as clearly in my mind as if I just left it."  
  
Gimli is silenced by that last remark. "Well," he says finally, "My final count is one thousand, laddie. What's yours?"  
  
I laugh. "Gimli, I have lived for over three thousand years. I think I have a kill total higher than yours. And one more thing," I say.  
  
"Yes, laddie?"  
  
"Gimli, I'm a lot older than you. I think you should stop calling me laddie." I look at him, amused.  
  
"Very true, my good fellow," he admits, "Do you think there's a chance that I can ever pass your count, friend Legolas?"  
  
"I highly doubt it," I say, "I don't suppose there's much action in the Undying Lands."  
  
"Hm. . ." he says.  
  
The silence remains for a long time, and I can tell we're both thinking about the same thing. The best adventures of our lives, during the War of the Ring.  
  
Gimli seems to know this as well, "We'll never have times like that again, Legolas. They were fun, weren't they?"  
  
"Yes," I say somewhat wistfully, thinking of Aragorn, Boromir, Merry, Pippin, Sam, Frodo, and Gandalf.  
  
"Well, we'll be seeing the little one in these so-called Undying Lands of yours. Maybe we can have some story-telling in honor of old Samwise, eh?"  
  
I laugh and say, "Of course, Gimli. I look forward to it."  
  
We both turn back, and watch Middle Earth until it fades from even my Elvish eyes.  
  
Then, we turn around and make a solemn oath to never look back.  
  
--  
**  
Nin mellon- my friend  
  
Mellon- friend  
  
Namaarie- farewell  
  
Aa' i'sul nora lanne'lle- may the wind fill your sails  
  
**

**Review please!! ^_^**

**~Moonlit Tears**


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